


you need to find a different boy's heart to chew

by larrification (orphan_account)



Series: Wedding Mishaps [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Eleanor's a cop, L&H Are Engaged, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-16
Updated: 2015-06-16
Packaged: 2018-03-31 23:17:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3996943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/larrification
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Maybe you should fucking marry Nick, then!"</p><p>or where Louis hates himself, Harry's broken, Liam tries his best, and Niall has no fucking clue what's going on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you need to find a different boy's heart to chew

**Author's Note:**

> Jiaying is pronounced like 'Jah-ying'.
> 
> Title from Emoticons by The Wombats.

Louis paces across his kitchen, hands in his hair.

He's always known Harry to be tardy, but three hours is much too long. Especially on the night before their rehearsal dinner.

Like, they're rehearsing their fucking _marriage_ tomorrow and Harry's out boozing up with Nick? Un-fucking-believable.

He grabs his phone and dials Harry again, tossing it across the room when it rings three times and then goes straight to voicemail.

Louis knew he never should have let Harry go with Nick alone. Never. Nick gets Harry pissed and then lets him figure his own way home. It's dangerous and irresponsible and fucking pathetic, if Louis' being honest.

He grabs his phone after a moment and calls Nick, hands in fists.

"Yellow," Nick says, boisterously drunk.

"Where the fuck is Harry?" Louis snaps.

"Oi, Louis," he laughs, "least you could do is say hi."

"Hi." Louis snaps. "Where's Harry?"

"Why he's right here!" Nick cheers. "Hey, H, your mum's callin'."

Louis doesn't breathe until he hears Harry's half fuzzy reply.

"My _mum_?"

Louis instantly knows he's shit-faced just by the sound of his voice.

"Mummy Louis," Nick explains, "he wishes to speak to you."

"No!" Harry says and Louis gasps softly. "I was ignoring his calls for a reason."

Harry's ignoring him? Why?

Louis is very hurt by the thought.

"Y'hear that, mate?" Nick says, jeering. "Bye!"

The line goes dead in his hands and he stares blankly at the wall, phone still against his ear.

He's devastated and furious.

Harry Styles doesn't just get to blow Louis off like that. He's his fiance, not some clingy bitch.

Louis won't be treated like one.

He redials Harry's number, biting his lip.

Harry picks up this time, surprisingly.

"Hiya, Lou."

Happy? He's fucking  _happy_?

"What the fuck do you mean you were ignoring me?" Louis says, cryptic. "Like, I totally get that you need time with your friends and I give you that, okay, but you have to understand that I'm not your mum. I'm not your guardian. I'm your boyfriend _—your fiance_. I shouldn't have to worry for hours because you couldn't call and say you were gonna be three fucking hours late!"

"I'm not late," Harry slurs. "It's only nine o'clock!"

Louis glances at the clock in the kitchen and scoffs.

"That what Nick told you?" Louis laughs, sarcastic. "Fucking prick. It's nearly three, Harry, and we have a rehearsal dinner tomorrow!"

"What? Seriously?" Harry says, confused. "Nick, what time is it?"

"Oh," Louis hears Nick's voice and snorts, "a little after nine."

"See!" Harry admonishes as if Nick's lie is the word of god. "Nine!"

"Check your fucking watch, asshat."

"Oh," Harry sounds dejected, "I don't have one."

"Fucking hell." Louis shakes his head. "Get your ass home. Now."

"Why don't you ever let me have any fun?" Harry snaps back and Louis makes a face.

Harry's not one to argue, especially when drunk. Usually he's just a little loud and clingy, not sassy as shit. Louis is the sassy one in their relationship.

That's how it's always been.

"Are you fucking serious?" Louis says, faux amused. "I let you go out and get shit faced with Nick for your bachelor's party or whatever _—_ "

"Rehearsal bachelor's." Harry corrects, words sharp.

"What the fuck ever, Harry." Louis says, just as sharp. "I let you do that and I say have a god time, drink for me because I'll be with Liam sipping from Capri Suns and folding fucking napkins all night, and then you stay out all night getting blackout drunk? It's bullshit."

"You  _let_ me?" Harry repeats, admonished. "I do what I want, okay? I'm sorry, Louis, but I just needed to do something for me and not for your goddamn wedding _—_ "

 _"My wedding?"_  Louis admonishes.

Harry's the one who wanted the fucking ceremony in the first place! Louis was happy with the paper from the courthouse and a lovely dinner with his best mates!

He fucking hates organized parties and he fucking hates drunk Harry.

"Fuck this," Louis shakes his head, "and fuck you! I'm fucking done with everything, Harry, and I don't think I can through with this if you keep drinking like this."

"Nick likes it when I drink! He says I'm looser and not as stuck up as mummy Louis."

"Maybe you should fucking marry Nick, then!" Louis shouts, shaking with rage. "He'll support your binge drinking and then ditch you at the fucking bar! And I won't be there to save your ass!"

"What are you getting at?"

"I'm saying I think you're an alcoholic and I'm not going to subject myself to that! I can't keep living like this!"

Harry does this a lot, see, and it's gotten more common over the last year and half.

Louis is tired of cleaning up Harry's messes.

"The wedding's off until you find your fuckin' chill." Harry snaps.

"Fine, dickhead! These napkins look shitty anyway! " They're Harry's design.

Louis hopes that it'll fucking burn him inside to see his design ruined.

Louis slams his palm into the table of decorations, sending them skittering across the floor. The glass centerpieces shatter, the loud crash of them startling Dog, their dog, from his sleeping place on the floor.

"Fuck you. I hope you have fucking fun with Grimshaw because I can't stand you!" Louis hangs the phone up as Dog stands on his short beagle legs.

He walks to Louis, sniffing his leg tentatively before passing him and heading to his food dish. There, he chews his food loudly and collapses in front of it, dozing off as if dozens of shiny glass vases hadn't shattered in front of his face.

Dog is so uncomplicated.

Louis wishes he had Dog's life.

"Fuck!" Louis shouts into the air.

Dog opens one droopy eye and then shuts it, snoring lightly.

Louis fucking hates his life.

-

Louis is startled awake by someone knocking on his front door.

It's still early, just after five, and Louis has literally _just_ fallen asleep. Fucking hell.

He pushes the blankets off himself and groans, sluggishly walking to the door.

Who the fuck is ringing his bell at five twenty nine in the morning anyway?

He yanks the door open, sleepy-eyed, and mutters an apathetic "What?".

"Hello, are you Mr. Tomlinson?"

Louis opens his eyes fully at the authoritative voice.

"Yes, that's me." Louis says skeptically, eyeing the tall woman.

"Hi. I'm Officer Eleanor Calder with the local police department and I need you to come with me immediately."

She's not dressed like a police officer, in fact she looks quite average. But then he spots her gun and the badge on her belt and knows it's true.

"Why?" Louis asks, fearful.

Harry's not home yet.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

"There's been an accident," she says, carefully, "Mr. Styles is your fiance, correct?"

"Correct." Louis grips his forearms tight, pinching his skin.

This can't be real.

It's got to be a dream.

"He's in critical condition." She reaches out an arm to lead him to the car and Louis lets her.

"What happened?" Louis croaks.

"He was inebriated, it seems, and was wandering through the streets. A man in a car hit him head on while he was speeding."

"Who?" Louis asks, sharp.

"I'm not supposed to say, but...Nicholas Grimshaw. He was intoxicated as well."

Louis is going to fucking murder Nick.

-

Eleanor drives him to the hospital in traditional police fashion—with the lights flashing, sirens booming, and speeding.

Louis is happy she seems to understand the gravity of the situation, but all he can think about is the fight they'd had.

The fight that had made them think about postponing their wedding, one which they'd already started the process of getting certified.

Louis can't believe they'd fought over something so trivial. When he sees Harry, he's going to apologize for being such a small-minded prick and then make Harry apologize for thinking he had the right to be sassy.

"We're here," she says, slamming the car into park outside of the emergency room, "I'll take you up to the waiting room."

"Thank you."

Louis follows her into the elevator and up to an unknown floor. There, she leads him to the waiting room and it's then that he realizes he's only got boxers and a t-shirt on.

He's practically nude but he doesn't care. Not one bit.

"I'll have the nurses bring you a blanket." She laughs lightly.

"Thank you," Louis says sincerely, "very much."

"It's no problem." She shakes her head, smiling. "Just doin' my job."

"Where's he now?"

"In surgery, probably. He was in pretty bad shape. I'll tell the nurses to fill you in." She nods at him and then ducks out of the waiting room, leaving him alone with his regrets.

He paces across the room, visibly distraught, and reaches for the hospital phone.

He has to call Liam or Niall or  _someone_ because he's sure being alone isn't good for his mental state.

He doesn't really think as he dials, just lets the numbers flow and the dial tone ring.

"Hello?" Someone says groggily.

"Liam, hey, um Harry's been in an accident and I don't-I don't-" Louis can't finish the sentence because he's sobbing into the phone and he's still angry, but it's more at himself for being so fucking stubborn and for saying those godawful things.

"Lou, hey, shh. It's okay, you're okay." Liam soothes. "Where are you right now?"

"The hospital." Louis holds the phone tight, sobbing.

"I'm on my way, okay? I'll be there soon and we can see Harry's dumb ass dimples and hear his crazy ass laugh, okay?"

"Okay." Louis says and then punches the wall.

It doesn't give under his fingers, just sort of sends an aching burn through his skin and doesn't make him feel better.

"Wanna know what the last thing I said to him was?" Louis says, helpless, as he cradles his hand.

"What was it, love?" Liam asks and Louis can hear the gentle purr of his car.

"I told him that I couldn't fucking stand him, can you believe that? I told the love of my life that I couldn't stand him and that his napkins were shitty. And now he's hurt and he might..." Louis hiccups over a sob. "He might actually believe that. What if I never speak to him again? What if he _dies_?"

Louis lets out a broken wail at the thought, tears all over his face.

He's usually not a crier, but at this point he doesn't know what he is or isn't anymore.

He's lost without Harry's light to guide him.

"He's not gonna die, Lou." Liam says and then mutters, "Get the fuck out of the way, pricks," under his breath. "He's gonna live and you're gonna get married and have plenty of babies and Dog will live to be twenty nine and he'll eat your food and piss on your couch. It'll rock, love, you just gotta calm down."

Louis takes a moment and breathes deeply, holding the newest wave of sobs in.

"Dog  _does_ love pissing inside." He says, sobbing.

"He sure does." Liam says and he sounds sort of relieved. "Okay, I'm here. What floor?"

"Oh, um, I don't-I don't know." Louis says and his teeth are chattering because it's fucking freezing in the waiting room and he's only wearing underwear and a cotton t-shirt and his face is soaked and he's distraught as shit.

"That's okay," Liam says, voice soothing.

Louis thanks god for Liam's calming voice.

"It's okay." Liam sighs, and then murmurs to someone off the line, "Styles?"

The name makes Louis cry out.

It was almost Tomlinson. Harry Styles Tomlinson. No fucking hyphen because Harry thought it looked stupid.

"Okay, floor three." Liam murmurs. "You're in the waiting room, right?"

"Yeah," Louis hiccups. "I'm only wearing boxers."

"Yeah?" Liam laughs, dark. "Good thing I brought a hoodie."

Liam is a fucking godsend.

"Okay, I'm gonna hang up now, okay? Because I'm on your floor."

"Okay, bye. I love you." Louis whimpers.

He's never not going to end a conversation with 'I love you' after tonight's events. Even if he's angry and pissed and sad, the last words out of his mouth will always be 'I love you'.

"I love you, too, Lou." Liam says, sounding worried.

Louis has never been so nice to Liam. It's odd and unnerving. Liam rather likes it when Louis is a prick to him.

Louis doesn't hang the phone up until Liam's inside the room, smiling sadly at him.

He looks like shit, too, so Louis doesn't feel so bad.

"You look like shit." Liam says, dry.

"You look shittier." Louis replies, placing the phone onto the base.

"How is he?" Liam asks, sitting down on the chair next to Louis.

He pulls off his hoodie and hands it to Louis who takes it with a grunt.

It's humongous, is the thing, and Louis feels like he's drowning in Liam's cologne. But it's nice.

"I don't know." Louis shakes his head, eyes watery, lip shaking.

He hates crying, especially around Liam. Liam likes to hold and cuddle and squeeze the tears away.

Louis isn't sure he wants that.

"They haven't come in yet. Why haven't they come in yet? Eleanor said she'd have them fill me in."

"Eleanor?" Liam frowns.

"She's the cop who drove me here. Like, she used her sirens and drove like a maniac and everything."

"That's pretty rad, you do realize." Liam says, grin curling his lip.

"I guess it is." Louis says, sort of half smiling.

"Tommo smile!" Liam says, loud, because he's a fucking idiot.

"Shut up." Louis pushes Liam's shoulder. "You are  _such_ a tool."

"But I'm a funny tool." Liam grins and Louis rolls his eyes.

He's almost as bad as Harry.

"You are not." Louis scoffs. "You're so un-funny that even Harry cringes."

"Oh, shut your mouth." Liam pushes Louis' shoulder with his own, laughing. "You love it."

"Whatever you have to tell yourself to sleep at night, Liam." Louis can't help the smile on his face.

"I have a question for you." Liam says, leaning on Louis' shoulder.

It sort of hurts, but Louis likes the contact.

"Shoot."

"Why'd you say you love me?" Liam keeps his head straight, staring at the wall opposite them.

"Because I don't want anyone knowing that I don't."

He won't let the people he loves leave without knowing. Not anymore.

Not after Harry's accident.

"I just...I love you all, you know? And I don't want any of you thinking I don't just because I'm a prick to you. I'm a prick because I love you."

"We know that." Liam smiles, sad. "Harry knows it, too. He loves you and he knows that you love him, even in his inebriated state."

Louis isn't sure how to respond, but luckily he doesn't have to.

A nurse walks in, rapping his knuckles against the wall.

"Mr. Tomlinson?"

Louis stands up immediately and Liam follows. Louis feels ridiculous, trapped in a tremendously large hoodie between two tremendously tall and buff men.

Louis is the perfect height. Fuck everyone over 5'9.

"That's me." Louis says, anxiously.

"The police officer said you needed a blanket, so we got you one." He hands Louis a soft-looking blanket with a soft smile.

Louis passes it to Liam because he doesn't feel like holding it.

"Also, I'm here to inform you about the basics of Mr. Styles' condition. Before the ambulance arrived at the scene, it's believed his brain was without oxygen for several minutes. Brain cell death usually occurs after only a few minutes without oxygen, so as you can imagine, the damage was substantial. His physical injuries are quite concerning as well, so the doctors have put him in a medically induced coma."

"Oh my God." Louis says and a tear falls down his face.

"The doctor will be out with some forms and worst case scenarios after he finishes assessment with the surgeon. I'll leave you two alone now." He says, smiling sympathetically as he exits, closing the door behind him.

Louis just stands there, pale ass legs frozen in the cool hospital air, heart shattered into fucking dust because the love of his life is in a coma thinking that Louis can't stand him and doesn't want to marry him.

"Lou?" Liam says, soft.

"He's dying." Louis mumbles, falling to his knees with a sob.

"No, no." Liam says with him. "He'll be...he'll be fine."

"No, he won't, Liam." Louis feels Liam's arms wrap around him and he's surprised that he likes it.

Likes being held tightly like he's a fucking child because maybe he is. Maybe all Louis is is a big, twenty-four year old baby, masquerading as an adult with a job and a fiance and a dog called Dog.

"He's got brain damage," Louis cries, turning to face Liam in his arms. "Brain damage!"

"It's gonna be okay, Lou. Just you wait and see." Liam smiles, but Louis shakes his head.

"He thinks I can't stand him. I love him, Liam, and the last words out of my mouth were 'I can't stand you'. What the fuck is wrong with me?"

"Nothing is wrong with you." Liam shakes his head, arms still corded around Louis.

Louis wiggles in them a bit so they aren't so awkwardly placed.

"Everything is. I'm an idiot and a bastard and impossible and hard to live with and a total jackass when I want to be. I'm the worst kind of person and Harry's had to live with me." Louis shakes his head, breathing hard as he tries not to cry. "I'm mad at myself for not realizing how much of a prick I've been."

"You've been a prick since the day I met you—since the day Harry met you. It's what attracted him to you in the first place, you idiot. I remember the night after your first date. He came home and all he could talk about was how goddamn hot your attitude was. Not your ass or your beautiful face or your tiny hands. Just your attitude." Liam pauses and then drops his voice to a Harry-like tone, "'He's so sassy, Liam! So self-assured and bossy and he knows exactly what he wants. It's so fantastic. He's so fantastic. He can boss me around any day, holy shit.' He loves you for it, love."

Liam knows exactly what to say to Louis. That's what makes him Louis' go-to guy in bad situations. Niall would've just offered Louis a pint and told him to punch some walls or something. He's effective in other types of situations, though, and Louis sometimes needs a pint and a good punch. Just not right now.

Louis really has the best of friends.

"Thank you, Liam, I-" Before Louis can finish his sentence, the door is being opened and someone is knocking.

Louis stands up immediately, tugging Liam along with him.

"Hi," the doctor says, "I'm Dr. Jiaying Johnson. Everyone calls me Jiaying, so feel free to, as well."

Louis grabs Liam's arm, holding it tight to ground himself.

"I'm Liam and this is Louis." Liam says when Louis doesn't say anything.

He can't. His throat is drier than the desert, his larynx must have shriveled up inside of him, the words are dead on his tongue.

"Hi," she smiles but it's somber, "I have some news." She pauses and sighs, a sympathetic look falling over her smooth features, "I'm sorry to have to tell you this. Mr. Styles died a few moments ago."

Louis' face slackens and he drops Liam's arm. He inhales sharply and tears roll down his cheeks.

"The brain damage was too much and his heart stopped beating. We tried to resuscitate him, but he stabilized for only a few moments before he flat-lined again. We were unable to bring him back so we called it."

Louis feels Liam's arms around him, can see the tears shining in Dr. Jiaying's eyes, can feel his own tears on his face, but it's all surreal. Like it's happening to someone else on a monitor somewhere.

His Harry's not laying in a hospital bed, pronounced dead by a fucking surgeon after a fucking prick hit him with a car. No, Louis' Harry is at home, hugging Dog and watching The Golden Girls on DVD.

This can't be happening to him or Harry, for that matter.

"Mr. Tomlinson?" She frowns. "Are you okay?"

"Can I see him?" Louis' voice is as clear as his thoughts, which are, well, opaque as shit. 

"I'm not sure that's the best idea," she shakes her head. 

"I-I can handle it." 

Louis isn't sure that he actually can, but it's worth it. He just wants to see his Harry. 

"If you must, I recommend taking your friend. He's...well, his condition is quite...heartbreaking." She bows her head somberly and begins to lead them out. 

Louis reaches for Liam's arm again, this time allowing himself to hold Liam's hand. Liam squeezes his palm once, Louis' hand sweaty with nerves and sadness and tears, and walks with him. 

When they arrive at the room, Jiaying turns to them. 

"Are you sure you want to do this?" She asks. "This could ruin your perception of him." 

"It won't," Louis assures, "I know what my Harry looks like." 

"Alright then." She pushes open the door, still blocking Louis from seeing in. 

Is everyone in the goddamned hospital super tall? Why isn't anyone normal height like Louis? 5'9 is the perfect height. Then Louis could see over her shoulders. 

"Go on in." She steps out of the way with a sad sigh. "I'm sorry for your loss." 

Louis bites his lip at her words and lets Liam lead him inside. 

What he sees solidifies everything. 

His chest wheezes with silent sobs and he holds onto Liam's hand so tight he's sure he feels Liam's wedding band break the skin on his hand. 

It's all too real. 

He collapses at the side of Harry's bed, sobbing sporadically as he grapples for breath. 

His Harry's dead. His body is laid across cheap white hospital sheets, blood littering the gashes all over his body. Louis reaches for Harry's hand, desperate to feel something other than deep regret. 

He told Harry he can't stand him and now he's dead. Dead and the last thought he had about Louis was a terrible one. 

Louis is a fucking cunt. He hates that word and he hates himself and so he rationalizes that he ha become it. The word, at least. 

He slides his hand against the half dry blood on Harry's arm until he finds his forearm. He untucks the blankets and cries out when he sees white bandaged covering his lower arm and no fingers. No hand.

"No," Louis sobs, banging his head against the edge of the mattress. 

He hadn't even felt it, but Liam had wrapped his arms around him as he fell to the ground. 

"Fucking--I fucking...Harry's fucking. Fuck." Louis sobs, uncontrollable. "I fucking am the biggest fucking idiot and I hate myself. i hate myself and I will never forgive myself. I can't fucking _—_ it's all my fault. All of this. i'm the fucking cause of it all." 

"It's not your fault," Liam whispers sharply, "It's not. Nick got him drunk. Then abandoned him." 

"He fucking hit him with his car." Louis sobs out. 

"We'll get our revenge." Liam promises, crying himself. 

"He...killed him while piss-faced. He doesn't need our revenge. Prison'll do that for him."

He's furious and sad, but he knows revenge is not what Harry would have wanted. Harry would have wanted forgiveness. 

Harry is _—was—_ like that. The kindest, sweetest, friendliest person on fucking earth and now he's dead. His body is cold, blood stagnant in his veins, eyelids shut and never to be opened again, brain dead with the imprint of Louis' final words scorched there for the world to see, gone to never be heard again.

**Author's Note:**

> I appreciate everything. 
> 
> Also, I have a [twitter.](https://twitter.com/directjess)


End file.
